Nightmares
by thomas hobbs
Summary: Sequel to "From the Mouths of Babes"


**Nightmares**

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><p>Sequel to "From the mouths of babes". "From the mouths of babes" is set in an alternative universe where the Potters went to Dumbledore for help, they ended up hiding in the Black family home.<p>

During the course of the story, Snape and Harry establish an unlikely friendship. Harry is eventually kidnapped by Wormtail. Snape attempts to save Harry but they end up being confronted by Voldemort.

Harry sacrifices himself to save Snape and ends up binding Voldemort with a vow to let Snape live. Being Voldemort he immediately forgets his promise (as in cannon).

Summary. Snape lives and Harry dies. Voldemort goes somewhere...

Characters: Voldemort, Harry, Snape

Warning: Swearing

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><p><strong>Chapter One: <strong>**White**

I hate everything.

Especially adults.

Fucking philistines drowning in their self-righteous ideals like bloated ticks drowning in a sea of blood. Fat, stupid, happy ticks; twitching and sucking and biting and dying.

Fucking hypocritical bastards with their rules and their morals and their beliefs that they cling to with desperate, groping, sticky fingers that slide along the shiny unforgiving surface of reality. The reality that rejects them utterly because the are worthless, insignificant, microscopic, delusional, pathetic and absurd.

And they do not realize their absurdity.

They, the adults, put me in the white room because I bit Jimmy. They call it timeout.

Out of time.

Out of place.

The no-where-place for bad little boys who bite and hit and who can see things that other people can't see. The white room, where I can think about what I have done.

Jimmy's blood tasted like metal. Like a penny. It was also the reddest red that I have ever seen. And it glistened when it slithered out of his arm. Like a shiny snake or a red river.

Jimmy thinks I'm a freak. They all do. A freak is defined as something that is unique and unexpected. You can have a freak accident, like a truck hitting a little girl. If it's a freak accident then that means it wasn't really the truck drivers fault. So when you have a freak person that means that the person isn't anybody's fault. A freak is an accident, a mistake, a thing that-should-not-have-happened-but-that-cannot-be-corrected.

It is no-one's fault, expect maybe the freaks mother, who was a slut.

There is another person in the room with me. A boy. My age. The others can't see him. I've already told him to fuck off but he just looked at me blankly. Stupid-fucking-no-brained-kid.

Hello, he says. Like a fucking retard from the special school for imbeciles that they wanted to send me to after I set fire to Lacey's teddy bear.

"Fuck off" I say. Louder.

What does 'Fuck' mean says the boy. Retard.

"It means go away" I say.

Oh, he says, I can't, the door's locked.

"Well done" I say. And I sneer at him, because he's a twit and he might not get that I am being sarcastic.

I think 'Fuck' means something worse then 'go away', says the boy.

"Well aren't you fucking brilliant" I say.

I think it's a bit rude, says the boy.

"Give the genius a fucking medal" I say.

I think you should stop saying it, says the boy.

"Will you tell on me if I don't?"

No.

"Well then you are the only one in this dump who wouldn't."

He just looks at me. He really is fucking slow.

"I'm a freak" I tell him. And I smile. To show him I'm proud.

You have the same smile as my friend, he says.

"I don't have friends" I say. "I don't need them."

Oh, he says. That's sad.

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><p>1 July 1986<p>

Dear Harry Potter,

First of all, thank you for saving my life. I'm not exactly sure how grateful I am that you did, but I realize that this is the sort of thing that normal people express gratitude over.

I don't believe in an after life, so I am not exactly sure what I am writing to. A figment of my imagination perhaps? A memory? My own twisted subconscious?

I'm not exactly sure how to post it either. Also, I would hate to think how much the post stamp to oblivion would cost, especially when international is nearly a pound.

Unsurprisingly your father and his friends want me dead.

Surprisingly Dumbledore believed my version of events when I showed up at Hogwarts with your body. He didn't take my word for it mind you, he performed a rather complicated spell over your body and apparently this confirmed what I said. Whatever that was.

Its a bit bleary.

I'm back in the family homestead. Or the family slum. Or the family shame, if you listened to my Mother when she was alive. Dumbledore has me under a fidelous charm, ironically to protect me from your dad and his chums. And other deatheaters.

Because it worked _so_ well the first time.

Dumbledore is also trying to protect me from the Dark Lord. Who is not dead. Or who is dead but not dead enough. I imagine he is not happy with me whatever state of existence he is in.

I've been having nightmares. About a white room. And you. And another boy with enough bitterness and anger to rival my own.

It doesn't make any sense. And I'm starting to worry that I am losing my mind. Because these dreams seem more real than the real world.

So I guess I'm writing to ask: are you still there Harry? Are you knocking around my skull instead of drifting off into the light?

I don't mind if you are, in fact you are welcome to take over if you feel like it. But my mind is really no place for a 6 year old and I feel like we should find you a better home. Possibly in your old body, I think I know a couple of spells that might work (although Dumbledore wouldn't approve).

Also: Did you you bring along any hitchhikers?

Anyway:

Your parent's miss you.

Your friends miss you.

The world is a darker place now that you are gone.

So if there is any way that you could come back, please don't hesitate to contact me.

Yours sincerely,

Snape

PS: I miss you.


End file.
